Insomnia
by verita dea
Summary: The situation was out of his hands. Why, then, does he lose sleep over it? AN in profile.


**Diary of Artemis Fowl II: Encrypted**

_I am not a person who usually makes mistakes, nor am I a person inclined to indulging my conscience. Indeed, one might have asked if such an abstract concept existed for one such as myself. Nevertheless, over the years I have had causes for sleepless nights. The kidnapping of the elf, Holly Short. The rescue mission of my father that could've gone wrong in so many ways. Such thoughts make sleep elusive. It's a slow torture, lying awake and thinking about all the close calls and the guilt. Time seems to move at the slowest pace imaginable while the mind plays tricks. Night allows too much time for thought and regrets. In the past, a quick check of my bank account would have eased my conscience. The knowledge that my father was alive would quell my doubts. These sleepless nights were of my own doing, caused by my deeds. _

_How ironic that this time, my insomnia is caused by an event in which I was merely a pawn._

* * *

Rhiannon supressed a shiver as she walked the corridors of the institution. There seemed to be a clamouring silence, filled with unspoken words and night terrors. It was almost as if she could hear the insanity and muddled thoughts of the patients as they slept, chilling and confusing. Unconsciously, she increased her pace. The sooner she checked all the rooms, the sooner the rounds would begin again; the sooner it would be over and she'd be able to fall into an exhausted sleep. 

She reached the ward on suicide watch. Most of the patients in this room were on anaesthetic, dreaming their dreamless sleep. No vibes of madness here. She stepped into the room, noticing that the doctor on watch duty was asleep. That lapse must be reported when she got back to the top floor. She did a routine check of the room for dangerous objects and found none. She should've left after that, she should've begun her rounds again. But instead, she stood by the window and gazed out. A bright full moon cast its light onto the garden, creating eerie shadows and dark shapes in the night. Perhaps it was not the best view for the mentally unstable to see, even if they were sound asleep. Quietly, Rhiannon brought the curtains across the window, switched on an unobtrusive lamp in the corner of the room, then turned to leave.

"Afraid of the dark are you?"

The voice made her jump; she almost knocked over a vase of flowers. She turned towards the speaker, who sat on the opposite side of the room. She'd seen him often enough, exasperating the resident psychiatrists with his mind games. He was young; mid twenties, thirty at most. It was too dark to see his physical appearance, but Rhiannon knew it well. Unnaturally pale skin, dark hair in contrast. One of his eyes blue, the other hazel. His piercing gaze had always disturbed her, not because of the mismatched colours, but because it was lucid, knowing. He didn't belong here.

"Err... no I'm not," she replied after a while.

"You're the intern."

An observation, one that made her feel obliged to give an explanation. "Yes. I'm studying psychology at university. My lecturer suggested that I get some first hand... experience."

The man leaned forward in his seat, his appraising expression made dimly visible by the moonlight coming through a gap in the curtains. Rhiannon hated being under scrutiny. She cleared her throat and tried for an authorative tone.

"It's almost midnight. You should well and truly be asleep," she admonished.

"That's not a very subtle way of turning the conversation," he answered, his tone light. "Interns are not usually put on the graveyard shift."

She scowled at him. "I volunteered. I can't get to sleep."

"Likewise."

"Do you want me to administer some anaesthetic then?"

He raised a brow. "No doubt a way to put an end to my questions. But no. I'd rather not."

"Well then." She turned to leave again. "Good night sir."

"I suppose there's an underlying mental issue that keeps you awake at night. Or perhaps you're afraid of what you'll see in your dreams."

Rhiannon stopped. Who did this man think he was, one of her teachers? She turned round again. "Maybe those are _your _reasons for being unable to sleep. A projection of your own analysis onto someone else."

"Reverse psychology," the man nodded. "I was one of the greatest minds of Europe. I know all there is to know about the human psyche. No psychiatrist could get into my head. You wanted first hand experience? Well I can give you a quick analysis. You volunteered for the night shift here to distract yourself from whatever it is that's keeping you from sleeping. That little back lash tells me I'm close to the truth."

"Well if you want to get all nitty gritty with the details, then fine." Rhiannon hissed. "Maybe I did volunteer to distract myself from my thoughts. But you're detaining me here to distract yourself from your thoughts. It makes you feel like you're in control, doesn't it? You were one of the greatest minds in Europe. The key word being _were_. Now you're just another crackpot lunatic in the insane asylum where nobody believes a word you say. Who would've thought? The great Artemis Fowl reduced to playing mind games with an intern in the mental institution?"

There was a charged silence. "So you know who I am," he said simply.

She felt guilt creeping into her conscience. "Yes I do. But I don't understand why you're here."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

It was as though the mood of the place had changed entierly. This was no longer a game of words. In that last sentence uttered, Artemis Fowl had offered a truce. He was willing to talk about whatever it was that brought him here, the catch was that Rhiannon had to believe him. She sat in the chair by the window, opposite Artemis himself.

"I'm all ears."


End file.
